


a sip of strawberry milkshake

by a_paper_crane



Category: Original Work
Genre: Don't Examine This Too Closely, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Souls, this doesnt make much sense, weirdly wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 01:06:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17909108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_paper_crane/pseuds/a_paper_crane
Summary: a soul is a very peculiar thing.





	a sip of strawberry milkshake

A soul is a very peculiar thing. Technically, it is a non-Newtonian liquid — its resistance changes based on force applied. If you were to attempt to grab a soul, it would stiffen up. It’s very similar to touching a rock. But a soul, when left untouched, will flow and pour and float throughout its body.

A soul is a challenge to touch for humans. Many can’t even pinpoint what exactly it is, so touching or even seeing one is a stretch. A soul has no parameters aside from its viscosity and its inability to leave its body. Humans have issues with the color of their skin, so knowing that souls are all the colors of the rainbow and more rather than various shades of tan could quite possibly cause full-blown wars.

A soul proclaims the mask it wears with its appearance and demeanor. It’s much like a human’s body, but less observation is required to understand it. A human walking slowly can mean many things, however a slowly moving soul means a cautious, worried personality. A yellow shirt could have various reasons, but a yellow soul is a perpetually happy optimist.

Of course, a soul is as multifaceted as its human. Some, although few, are transparent and nearly one-dimensional. Most, however, contain multitudes. A soul grows with each trait, phrase, or notable memory. Babies have very small souls, while the souls of elders are often stuffed into their bodies.

The easiest way to understand an individual soul is to hold it in your hands. You can see each and every last piece of its personality when it is in your hands. There are few humans who have experienced this, then there is myself, Death, and God. For anyone but me, a soul can only be held before birth or a few moments after death. God creates souls. The creation process is unknown to anyone but God themself. Once the soul has been brought into existence, God nurtures it until it is ready for birth. They place the soul in the body of the baby when the mother’s water breaks. Death retrieves the soul after the body has died. Death is gentle, yet unemotional. I’ve only ever seen her cry once, while both God and I are frequently moved to tears by the beauty of the human race, however problematic they may be. A few seconds after a human has died, Death quietly picks up their soul. It is often confused and rejects her help, but she has hear every lie, sob story, and excuse a billion times. Where she takes them is a mystery to everyone else. 

I am the only thing that can touch a living soul. I am Life. I am there in the small moments: the brushing of a lock of hair from a lover’s eyes; the splash of a puddle as a child leaps into it; the first sip of strawberry milkshake at a diner with new friends; the last, perfect line in a book; a flash of memory in a dementia patient’s eyes. I’m there for the big triumphs and the moments remembered in vivid detail, but I much prefer the small, forgettable ones. I am there to cause a smile and imprint the good times into a soul. I am there for the bad moments too, but they are almost always outweighed by the good ones. Every good moment in a soul makes it a bit warmer. Nearly every soul I’ve held has been glowing with heat.


End file.
